A wise man once suggested that we do an editorial that inserted after ever other word a snarl to note yet another big, smashing bump in the roads of West Seattle. We thought the idea over, but rejected it as being a boring repetition.

Imagine a full page of, growl, ouch, grrrrrrrr, mutter and assorted other words of frustration.

Why are our streets falling apart! A recent visitor to some cities in China found at least as good pavement as we have in Seattle but we are supposed to be a first world nation while China is still a third world power.

Some of the problem is simply lack of dough, we are told. True, there are more big ticket undone transportation plans lying around Seattle than there are dreams of winning the big one in the lottery.

It is true that the pothole brigade works pretty well. Complain of a crater big enough to eat a Lincoln Towncar and the chances are pretty good the pothole crew will be along in a day or so to repair it. But it is a losing enterprise.

Even a budget cruncher for that big spender in the White House would have a hard time keeping track of the lunges, bounces, lurches and life threatening slams of a car along California Avenue.

Maybe we can't afford to repave this vital avenue, but can we at least make rule that keeps each and every condo from carving up the street to connect to utilities and then doing a miserable job of covering up their desecration. Sometime what was a ditch to connect to a sewer becomes a slamming mound of badly compressed asphalt reminding one of the Olympic peaks.

Surely there are rules of how the repairs are made, but we suppose the one inspector dedicated to checking these fixes out is on sabbatical in Mogadishu. Get him back, Mr. Mayor or even your spiffy limo will look like a leftover from an Auburn wrecking yard.

It almost appears as though our streets are paved with the good government intentions of Tim Eyman.

Surely we can do better. Wham. Crunch. Well, there goes the new car and after only 100 miles.